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The Dreamer

Ilham Abukar had devoted this poem to her father who recently returned to Somalia. Ilhan lives in Columbus, OH with her mother


By Ilham Abukar Daahir
Friday, February 11, 2011

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Like a man with a mission he went,

The mother continent’s constant cry of sorrow

Would no longer fall on hardened ears,

His heart is with his people, wherever they may be,

And the sun’s intense heat and the endless miles that,

Separate him from family only led to family,

The variety that share the tongue of his nation and the burden of her troubles,

The brunt of her war and the never-ending chapters of her pain,

He understands more than average men what it means to be a patriot,

Never waving sword or toting gun,

Giving all that he has with the gift of his tongue, the sweat on his brow

And the time on his hands

See he knew he had to return to the country of war and her ever-stretching sands

Leave the comforts of his home and the arms of his daughters

To restore the integrity of his nation and heal her sore and open wounds

Since she is fragile,

Lasting only because of those like him,

Those with purpose to their action and unwavering love of kin,

Those with nationalism and pride, foresight and hope,

Those with intellect and bravery, those with courage and good faith,

Those who have been gifted enough to see that tomorrow does not have to be a shadow of today,

And that even the darkest of evenings give birth to miraculous dawn,

That even the most brutal of chapters comes to a close,

And out of the ashes comes new life,

Comes new hope,

I must admit I am not as sure,

My spirit does not yet speak of brighter morn, for my spirit still mourns

For the nation of poets my family once knew,

For the peaceful land that was granted to few,

All that I know is this land of war,

And into this bloody legacy a generation was born,

As if we were forsaken to speak in past tense of our once great home,

We are so completely and hopelessly torn,

But the weight of my father’s faith gives me reason to dream,

Of a nation as great as it once seemed,

Restored to her glory or at least brought to her feet,

Welcome again her children and sing songs so sweet,

All the corners of the world from beauty will weep,

Until that glorious day come,

We have the dreamer, the absent and the gun,

I am proud he is of the first.

Ilham Abukar Daahir
E-mail: idahir@live.com
Columbus, OH


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